


All Of This Silence & Waiting, Pining & Anticipation

by heartlikethat



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Blame It On The Dress, F/M, Future Fic, Gratuitous Smut, With Like A Dash Of Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29782590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartlikethat/pseuds/heartlikethat
Summary: Zoey has been driving Max crazy all night, so it’s only fair that he returns the favor.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	All Of This Silence & Waiting, Pining & Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha, well then. Paired with my anxiety not letting me get any rest last night, this materialized from Jane’s 2021 Golden Globes dress, the song “Dress” by Taylor Swift (hence the title), and a scene from _What If_ where Sean has Lisa pinned against the wall. So, uh, welcome to the smutshow, I guess.

Crowded as the event hall was, Zoey could feel Max’s eyes on her from across the room, watching her with intensity, making her heart rate speed up and her skin flush with heat as the onset of desire started stirring down below.

She had chosen this navy dress specifically with him in mind, knowing that it would drive him mad, with its exposed back and intricate cutouts, hugging her curves like a second skin.

What she hadn’t expected, which was a definite oversight on her part, was how damn good he would look in his tailored-to-fit black tuxedo when he accompanied her to this _stupid_ event.

Okay. Maybe that wasn’t necessarily a fair thought for her to have. It wasn’t a stupid event, not at all. It was a ceremony celebrating women in STEM, with Zoey being one of the women receiving accolades and _of course_ she felt a deep sense of overwhelming pride and accomplishment.

But she also just really wanted to jump his fucking bones.

It was her womanly right to feel both of those things at once.

Although, she would have thought that by now her desire for Max would be a little less encompassing, the way he could still completely obliterate her capacity for rational thought when he so much as swept an appraising gaze over her body, followed immediately by a slight darkening of his eyes and she didn’t need a heartsong to clue her into the exact direction his thoughts had wandered to.

She recalled that very first weekend after they hit unpause on their relationship. It was more of a forceful and repeated slamming of the play button, really, given how the events of that weekend unfolded. With Max ceding control of the restaurant over to Mo so he and Zoey could spend the entire weekend making up for lost time, holed up inside her apartment and hardly extracting themselves from the divine comfort of her bed.

It quickly became a game, trying to see who could draw out the most orgasms from the other.

Given Zoey’s competitive nature and Max’s willingness to provide for her in any way she might need, it ended up being a close call. With his head trapped between her thighs, she soon discovered his desire to provide pleasantly translated, with surprising precision and enthusiasm, to the bedroom, which ultimately culminated in a win for him that weekend. Not that she was complaining (she was, just a tiny bit, but only because she liked to _win_ ).

But it was impossible to be truly upset at the loss for long when he brought her such earth-shattering pleasure, especially factoring in the way his entire face lit up when she came unraveled from the touch of his hand or the stroke of his tongue. And when her chest wasn’t heaving while she gasped for breath, she detected the flash of pride in his eyes, the happy little shit-eating grin on his face.

And she loved it. She loved _him._

Zoey could hardly believe there had been a time where she had been afraid of his devotion to her, when she had turned her back on him, how she had avoided him for weeks.

At the time, she had marked the reasons why next to a few bullet points — that she would somehow lose him for good, that she’d never be fully ready to give their a relationship a fair shot, that she wouldn’t be able to live up to his expectations of her.

Now, she suspected that while all those reasons were valid and definitely played at least some small part in her indecision, the real reason she was scared was because she knew that once they embarked down that road, there was no turning back.

She knew heading down that path with Max would lead them to forever, toward the future they would build together.

A thought that once gripped her with such fear now only brought her peace of mind and she felt a sense of contentment as it settled deep in her bones, her profound love for Max etched right into the walls of her beating heart.

One of these days, she would have to tell him of her newfound assurance. But for now, she had to endure a few more torturous hours of forced mingling and networking before etiquette would allow her to whisk him away and whisk off his pants.

* * *

Back at her apartment, they had barely made it inside before his hands were on her, plucking her purse out of her hand and tossing it carelessly aside as he slammed the door shut. In one swift and skilled maneuver, he grabbed her by the waist and wheeled her around so she was facing the door.

She hardly had time to let out a little yelp of surprise as her hands flailed forward with desperation to steady herself against the solid wood. Her heart pounded in her chest as the thrum of excitement rushed through her veins, feeling the heat of his body pressed up against her back.

Craning her neck, trying to get a glimpse behind her, she felt as his hands framed her hips, fingers exerting gentle pressure to lock her in place. “Max? What— _ah_ ,” Her question cut off with a shiver when one hand left her waist, his knuckles skimming lightly up her back before brushing the hair away from the nape of her neck.

The newly exposed skin was soon claimed by his mouth, trailing a line of warm kisses up the side of her neck. 

Her head slumped forward, her forehead resting against the door as she sucked in a sharp breath, already trembling with anticipation and longing.

“God, Zoey,” he growled in her ear, making her shiver again, sending an aching pulse straight down to her core. “The way you look in this dress.” She gasped when she felt the featherlight touch of his fingertips as they traced the seam of the dress, along her lower back, up the sides of her torso until he reached the soft curves at the sides of her breasts.

“It’s criminal, what you do to me,” he insisted, voice low and rough as his fingers edged beneath the fabric, sweeping his thumbs across her nipples until they beaded under his touch. “How you manage to steal my breath, my heart, my _sanity_.” He groaned out the last word.

Arching against him in a silent plea for more, her breathing grew shallow as he nuzzled her neck, his stubble scraping against her skin and his fingers still caressing her breasts.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to keep my hands off you tonight?” he demanded hoarsely, biting down on the soft flesh of her shoulder, followed by a soothing stroke of his tongue.

Very fucking hard, indeed, if the stiff evidence of his arousal pressed against her ass was any indication.

Zoey shifted her hips, pushing back and grazing his erection, causing Max to hiss out a harsh breath before his hands abandoned their teasing assault on her breasts to brace her hips again.

“Not yet,” he murmured, stilling her movements.

She blew out a small huff of frustration. So desperately did she want to spin around, pin him to the ground, tear at his clothes, and ride him until they both couldn’t remember their own damn names.

Instead, she forced in a few steadying breaths and complied, relinquishing control over to Max, letting him drive the show.

And it would be a downright lie if she said she wasn’t intensely turned on by this side of Max right now, she could _feel_ it, how drenched and throbbing she was for him.

Only when he was certain she wouldn’t move did he give a satisfied hum. “That’s it,” he growled in approval before releasing his hold on her hips.

“All night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to get you out of this dress,” he confessed in a low tone. “All it would take is two sharp tugs.” His actions mirrored his words, his fingers finding the satin fabric tied in a bow over her left shoulder, pulling until it gave way and the front of the dress sagged precariously open, still held up by the strap on the right.

His lips brushed against her shoulder, just barely ghosting over her skin, causing her to gasp as her forehead dropped to press against the door once more, her legs wobbling slightly as she waited for him to continue.

And continue he did, his own tantalizing form of pure torture.

Snaking a series of sloppy, open mouthed kisses from her shoulder, he traveled down and across her back until he reached his intended target, gently tugging the second bow free and slipping the satin straps away from her body so the front of the dress fell open.

Faster than Zoey could blink, Max had whirled her around, palming one breast while his tongue lavished the other, sweeping along the bottom swell of her breast.

Delicately rolling a nipple between his fingers, his eyes darted up to lock on her face as he commanded, “Don’t move.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded her consent and her head pitched back against the door, palms slapping on the wood in an effort to stop herself from grabbing at him while he teased her breasts, worshipping them with his hands and his lips and his tongue. Slowly and deliberately driving her absolutely mad with lust.

Zoey moaned softly when his tongue swirled up to lap at her nipple, methodically switching from broad strokes to tiny flicks, grazing his teeth over the peak before wrapping his lips around it and sucking gently until it was enveloped by the damp heat of his mouth.

“Max,” she gasped, curling her hands into fists as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Releasing her nipple, he blew a stream of cool air across it, causing her hips to jerk and her fists to slam into the door.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she gasped again, her grip on her self-control rapidly slipping away from her.

She could feel her center pulsing, her desire had been building all night, and now it was an unbearable and persistent ache. She was wound up so tight, she wouldn’t be surprised if a single swipe of his thumb over her clit released her, sending her spiraling into a quivering mess sprawled out on the floor when her legs failed to keep her upright.

If he ever got her out of this fucking dress.

Then, with a sigh that wavered between pleasure and frustration, she leaned into his touch, arching her back off the door. Her lower half squirmed restlessly, rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure between her legs.

Max’s free hand shot to her waist, his fingers digging in, not nearly enough to hurt, but enough to make his intention clear. “Not yet,” he repeated firmly.

In response, a faint and needy little whimper came from the back of her throat. 

Pulling his face away from her breast, he peered up at her so he could throw her a wicked grin, his eyes dark and gleaming. “You have been torturing me all night, I fully intend to return the favor.”

Zoey couldn’t help it, she let out a strained laugh, her patience stretched thin. She wanted him _now_. “Well, consider it done then, because I’ve been fantasizing about ripping that tux off your body since the moment I saw you in it.”

“Really?” he asked with a degree of skepticism, his fingers absently caressing the smooth skin of her stomach, her muscles jumping beneath his touch.

Scraping her teeth along her bottom lip, she nodded. “Let’s just say, if this dress wasn’t a rental, I would have dragged you into the bathroom in the middle of the ceremony.” Flashing him a devilish grin, she added in a breathy undertone, “I would have begged you to fuck me in one of the stalls.”

Max choked on nothing, his eyes growing comically wide before he gave his head a hard shake, growling out a curse as his hands began pulling frantically at her dress.

“Where’s the damn zipper?” he grumbled under his breath. “Maybe this dress isn’t as easy to get off as I thought,” he mused as his fingers kept tugging at the fabric. “Are you sewn into this thing?”

“It’s right here, on the side,” she instructed, her hands darting down to assist him, but he swatted them away when he located the zipper, wrenching it down with one hard pull.

“Max!” she cried out. “Careful with the dress,” she whispered breathlessly in admonishment, though her reprimand lacked conviction given how desperate she was to have his hands on her bare skin, to scream out in triumph when he finally plunged himself deep inside her.

As the dress pooled at her feet, she quickly stepped out of it and bent down to pick it up, laying it carefully across the chair by her door to deal with later.

When she spun back around to face Max, she could see the hunger in his eyes as they skimmed over her body, could see his arousal straining against his pants.

“Do you mean to tell me,” he gasped out, “that you’ve been naked under that dress this whole time?” 

She shot him a mischievous smile, sauntering over to him. “Well, yeah,” she remarked casually. “I couldn’t very well risk letting the outline of my underwear ruin the look of my dress, now could I?”

With what looked like great effort on his part, he shook his head, swallowing heavily. “Um,” he cleared his throat, “You ready, Zo?” he asked, his voice still rough as sandpaper.

Was she ready? Was he _joking?_ Zoey didn’t know whether to throw her head back laughing in disbelief or faint from shock that he couldn’t tell she was about ready to come undone from the roughness of his voice alone.

“ _Oh yeah_ ,” she breathed, grabbing his wrist to guide his hand between her thighs to show him just how ready she was, practically dripping onto his fingers.

An animalistic sound tore from the depths of his throat and without warning, his fingertips glided along her slick folds before he drove two fingers inside her, causing a sharp gasp to be ripped from her lungs.

Startled by the sudden intrusion and the jolt of pleasure it evoked, her knees gave out and she surged forward, clawing at his arms to keep herself from toppling to the ground as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out with smooth, measured strokes.

“You’re fucking _soaked_ ,” he moaned into her hair, picking up the pace as her body started to tremble. She could hardly breathe, she was so close.

An insensible string of expletives tumbled from her lips right as she was about to crest over the edge, but Max withdrew his fingers before she could fall into ecstasy’s sweet embrace. She called out his name like a curse.

Gathering what she could manage to find of her wits, she placed her palms on his chest and shoved him backwards, toward her bedroom. “Out of these clothes,” she demanded, fumbling with his bow tie as they crossed the threshold into her room. “ _Now_ , Maxwell.” She tossed the scrap of fabric to the ground, her hands fisting into the bottom of his dress shirt and yanking it free from where it was tucked into his pants.

In record time, his body was stripped bare and before his last article of clothing even hit the floor, she pushed him back onto the bed, wrapping her hand around his rigid length as she climbed on top of him, quickly lining him into position and sinking down with an exultant cry of gratification.

Zoey could have sworn his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he emitted a loud and guttural groan, his hands blindly swinging out in search of her hips and easily finding purchase.

Leaning back and bracing her hands on his thighs, she rocked against him, moaning at the feel of him moving inside her, already so close to the brink after hours of aching to be filled by him. She moved faster, digging her nails hard into his thighs as her head fell back and her eyelids drifted shut, seeking release.

“Stop,” he rasped out when all she could manage was short, sharp gasps of air as she neared the precipice again and Zoey felt his fingers flexing against her skin.

With a frustrated groan, she obeyed, but not before she briefly considered tying him to her bed and leaving him there with his throbbing erection while she ducked away into the living room to finish herself off. Or straddle his waist and make him watch as she brought herself to orgasm. Really pound in that last nail on the torture chest.

All she really wanted was to be pounding something else.

With that in mind, she snapped her head down to look at him, drinking in the sight of his heaving chest, his jaw clenched tight as he swallowed heavily, the knot in his throat bobbing while he engaged in a battle with his own restraint. 

She knew if she gave just a subtle shift of her hips, he’d relent and let her carry them both over the edge.

Instead, she raised her eyebrows, waiting, sucking in a sharp breath when she felt his erection pulsing inside of her.

“Tell me what you want,” he asked gruffly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she intended to sound coy, but it came out more like a breathless pant. “I want you.”

Though his eyes blazed with lust, he slowly shook his head from side-to-side. “Try again.”

Fighting through the haze of her desire, she struggled to understand what he wanted from her when all she could focus on was how desperately she wanted to get off. “I want you to make me come,” she begged. “Max, _please_. Make me come.”

That seemed to be the right answer because he flashed his teeth at her, his voice a low growl. “Your wish is my command.”

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, there was a smart remark lurking, something about baseball that would have been ridiculously funny as they shared a knowing laugh at their little inside joke. 

But then his hips jerked up and one hand slid to cup the curve of her ass while the other stroked between her legs and she couldn’t think about anything at all except the searing white hot pleasure that coursed through her entire body just a few moments later, shuddering hard as she convulsed around him, letting out a strangled cry.

Feeling like liquid, she collapsed forward, covering his body with hers and burrowing her face into his neck as he tightened his hold on her ass, moving his free hand to tangle in her hair and pulling at the strands as he sought to reach his own climax.

Zoey brushed her lips against his ear and whispered how badly she wanted him to come for her, and with a few more thrusts, his body went taut beneath her and he spilled his load inside her.

* * *

“I’m buying you that dress,” Max affirmed a short while later, Zoey tucked into his side with her hand on his chest, his fingers lazily trailing up and down her spine.

Zoey laughed. “You can’t afford that dress,” she insisted. “Not unless you have a few thousand dollars just laying around.”

Stilling his hand on her back, she felt as his muscles tensed up. “What if I told you I did have a few thousand saved up?” he asked in a soft murmur and the significance of what he was implying was not lost on her. He hadn’t saved up that kind of money to buy her an Oscar de la Renta dress, that’s for damn sure.

Tilting her head so she could see his expression, he looked hopeful and more than a little terrified, his breath stuck in his throat as he awaited her response. She offered him a reassuring smile. “Then I would tell you that I’d never stop you from going after what you want.” She stretched up to press her lips against his, lingering there a moment before pulling away to catch his gaze. “And then I would tell you that I want the same thing, too.”

Blowing out the breath he had been holding, a broad smile bloomed across his face. “Well then,” he said, moving to brush a soft kiss against her temple. “I will definitely be keeping that in mind.”


End file.
